Voice of the Shadows
by Silver Sky 1138
Summary: AU. Teenage Obi-Wan Kenobi; an eight-year old Jedi musician; and Ciaràn, the boy who in another universe would be called Darth Maul, find themselves on a mission to rescue a classmate from the allure of the dark side. 5: Obi-Wan stumbled out of a bar...
1. Chapter 1

It began on the day when Jedi Padawan Kate Misinjian decided to hate her Master. She would never have said she _liked _him before, but as she sat facing him she hated his white beard and crinkled skin and thin lips that never moved from their expression of serenity—

He could never _understand_!

"Calm down, Kate," he said kindly.

The rest of the class, Masters and Padawans perched on round seats in a shuttered room, were looking at her. They must have felt the turbulent emotions sliding insidiously through her, reinforcing the notion that she _could not do this_, couldn't become a Jedi with a perfect mind and shackled thoughts. They _stared _at her. She turned away, shifting the blonde hair that hung down her back and showing them the side of her face she had made up with black and aquamarine swirls. The pattern flowed neatly from her ear across her cheek and over her eye; she wore it as a badge of beauty, of individuality, of rebellion.

She looked her Master in the eye and said, "I don't understand." She had said it many times before; about philosophy, about nonattachment, about why other students defeated her in practice combat.

"What don't you understand?" he replied. "The meditation?"

"I was told to clear my mind. To erase myself. 'Free of opinions, thoughts, and concerns.' All meditation is about that." She caught the gaze of a human boy seated near her for a moment and turned away. She didn't know him, but thought his eyes too compelling. "But then, what's left? What's _me _without…feelings?" She continued in her mind. _Without crying for no reason, without friendship and love, without purpose?_

Her Master looked at her very seriously. "A Jedi."

Kate pushed away from her seat and stood up, talking loud enough that everyone in the room could hear her— because if she was going to make a scene, it would be a _grand _one, and she had to make it. "I don't _understand_! I _feel _every day of my life—curiosity, sadness, solace, want, _hate_! I _love _being here, I love my friends and fighting and the Force and, and sentient beings! Quieting that down goes against _everything _I know, not what I've been taught in meditation class but what I _know_, because I'm a teenage girl and feelings are _everything _for me! The chemicals in my brain are set up that way! Did you _know_ that, Master K'tan? I have to _live_, not stifle myself with uniforms and mantras and _old men_!" She began to stomp away, livid, no destination in mind except the chamber door, and then she stopped.

Master Yoda was standing in the open doorway, leaning on his stick, staring up at her.

The defiant energy left her for a moment; suddenly she was calm again, calm and unnatural—then the anger, the real emotions, returned in force.

He said, "The last straw this is, Padawan Misinjian. Fortunate we are, that the Council is in session."

* * *

Kate had never stood in the Council room before. The starburst design at her feet pointed at each of the twelve Masters of the Order; Master Yoda, Master Windu, Master Koth…each one irritatingly serene. 

Nine men, three women. Kate noticed because she was not all that happy about noticing that Masters Yoda and K'tan were talking about her as she stood between them. Counting Council members was easier. Noting the gender split was not, but it was something to do. It concreted the thought that had been nagging at her brain for a time, saying that Jedi discipline was easier for men, then disregarding the self-deprecating repercussions of that epiphany and wondering if the training methods had not been designed that way. Perhaps the Order was biased. The way she calculated it, there was no reason for the Force not to manifest in the same amount of females as males. However, there always seemed to be fewer girls succeeding, or fewer in her classes at all.

The Council was veritably asking Master K'tan to report about his apprentice in front of her, and to his credit he was ashamed. But he said, "She's mediocre in combat, decent with mechanics, very skilled with the Force, but…almost unaffected by the tenants of the Jedi Code. She has not taken it to heart. Her talent is still raw."

"There is no passion," Kate whispered, glaring at the floor. "There is serenity." She thought, _the wrong Master chose me two years ago. What did he _think_ he was getting?_

"But loyal she is, and strong in the Force! Told me have you how her emotions control her." Yoda had never sat down at his place in the circle; now he urged forward his floating chair and came close enough to Kate that he could touch her if he wished. "Strong are they also, very strong…And that is why _take her apart_ _we can_." He punctuated each word with a shake of his gnarled hand; then reached forward and touched her painted cheek, claws dull and cold against her skin. "Weakness, your attachments are. Wish to be strong, do you?"

His next words were going to be _Show you your weakness I will_, and she didn't want to hear them. Already she had run out of the meditation room. Running out of the Jedi Council Chamber was just the second step.

Yoda knew her next move too. So he changed his words. "Left to you, only darkness is, if these halls you forsake."

In that moment, her definition of darkness changed. No longer was it old armies of slaves, vague cloaked evils, or the Force-obscuring cloud some Masters talked about. She had learned about these things, but her answer came from what she _knew_.

She tried to move so fast that he wouldn't know her intention before she did. She slapped Yoda's hand away, screaming "At least it's real," and ran for the doors.

For some reason, she was able to slam them open, with her hands and with the Force.

The Council, she thought, did not care enough to lock her in.

That thought sustained her down the turbolift to ground level; the thought of her ignorant Master propelled her through that level, past wall hangings, arch-roofed hallways and other Jedi; the thought of the men of the Council propelled her out the double doors into the evening; her defeats at the hands of her classmates pushed her awareness away from how _big _Coruscant was; her raw frustration quickened her strides like whips at her back.

* * *

"It's this way. Hurry!" 

Seventeen-year old Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed, but allowed the youngling pulling on his tunic sleeve to lead him along. "Where are we going, Asha?"

"Surprise."

She tugged a bit more insistently, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. In the short time he'd known her, he'd quickly learned that, in Asha Scarci's case, 'surprise' usually meant that she didn't know where she was going either; she just wanted to take someone with her.

His thoughts wandered a bit as she lead him from the classroom hall, past the meditation chambers and the practice salles, through the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and finally into the entrance hall.

"Look!" she said, pointing upwards at the large windows and the lights outside them that indicated a busy skyway. "It's so pretty. Isn't it pretty, Obi-Wan?"

But Obi-Wan was not looking at the speeders. He was too busy focusing on the figure standing in the open doorway, staring out at the cityscape.

"Ciarán!" he called. "What are you looking at?"

The Zabrak turned to face him, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "Kate's gone."

"Ciarán, she's probably just hiding somewhere. Have you checked--"

"I just saw her run out. I called after her, but she just kept running."

Obi-Wan blinked. "You mean… I know she's been threatening to, but… she really… left?"

Ciarán nodded solemnly.

Asha tugged on Obi-Wan's sleeve again. "Who's Kate?" she asked plainly, looking imploringly up at her companion.

"A friend of ours," he answered. "Look Asha, I think it's time you went back to the crèche--"

"No!" She pulled on his sleeve again, but this time he jerked it back out of her grasp. "I wanted to show you the--"

"Not now, Asha. I need to find her." He knelt down briefly so he could be at eye level with her, and told her, very seriously, "Stay here." Then he stood up and looked at Ciarán again. "Do you know which way she went?"

"I think so. Come on." And he jogged out into the streets, Obi-Wan a few steps behind him, leaving Asha in the entrance hall.

She thought about Obi-Wan's request. Then she ran after him anyway.

Three Padawans ran along a lightless thoroughfare; two Padawans stumbled after one to whom anger lent speed. Neon lights flashed across the bottomless street, and speeders flew past with their headlights on, but she had chosen shadows to run to.

Obi-Wan stopped at an intersection of two streets, breathing hard, looking around for what he knew he wouldn't see. He could sense her in the near distance, past the indistinct steps of a fire escape.

"Kate!" shouted Asha. Obi-Wan jumped a few inches into the air and turned around—the brown-haired youngling was standing innocently behind him, smiling.

"Wha—it's supposed to be hard to sneak up on Jedi, you know." Obi-Wan said. Ciaràn laughed softly.

"I was being _pianissimo._"

Like the other two and unseen Kate, Asha wore the brown and white robes typical of the Jedi. She lived as any of them did, and, when she came of age, would carry a lightsaber. However, she perceived the Force as music, as melodies or symphonies she could hear, and her powers manifested in some unusual ways.

Obi-Wan wondered what she heard right now.

Asha yelled, "Kate!"

"Shh," hissed Ciaràn. The red-skinned Zabrak's bronze eyes almost glowed as he warily scanned the alley.

"I don't think we have to worry," said Obi-Wan. "We're close to home; the alley's just dark because it's not the storefront side of the building." Another sidewalk could be seen above them, a black shelf against the dark and cloudy sky. A speeder whooshed by; the sound was nearly a constant outside on Corsucant, and the Padawans barely heard it as they moved forward after Obi-Wan. "Kate!" He called. "We want to help."

"Come _here _then!" Her voice came disembodied out of the dark.

They moved forward. Kate's presence hovered above Obi-Wan; he looked up to see her perched on the fire escape. She looked small against the metal, her arms around her knees, her thoughts pain-filled and angry. A thrill of fear shot through him when he remembered his own flight from the Jedi Order. "Take it from me, this is a bad idea. Leaving home? It's not that great."

"That's putting it mildly," said Ciaràn wryly.

Kate looked down at them; then her gaze slid to Asha. "What's that?"

"This is Asha." Obi-Wan placed a hand on the little girl's shoulder. "She, ah, tends to follow me.."

"How cute." Kate said.

"You know, if you were as good at Jedi calm as you are at sarcasm we wouldn't be having this conversation," said Ciaràn.

"Ha," Kate dropped down from the fire escape to directly in front of the Zabrak, but she retreated to the wall and leaned there, shadows hiding her painted face and pale green eyes.

_She feels estranged_, Obi-Wan sensed. P_utting a barrier between us, even if we've been friends and Ciaràn and her are yearmates, illustrates what she thinks of home right now. _"What happened?"

She felt sad now, almost resigned to both wanting and hating the Jedi. "I told them everything," she said quietly. "Master Yoda and Master K'tan called the Council on me. They know I can't calm down and that there are too many men in that Temple and I hate Master K'tan."

"I didn't know that last one, actually," said Obi-Wan.

"I'm not sure I did either. He's so…static. Okay, he's so old. I'm…The Council." Kate looked back and forth between her friends. "Master Yoda…wants to erase who I am. I can't go back. They'll do something to me—they're _dangerous_—"

"Master Yoda frightened you," said Ciaràn. Kate nodded. He continued, "He's not harmless. No Council member can be. I think they were being what you want to be, Kate; not soft, not like Master K'tan, who just wants to talk you through your problems. Tough."

"But I can't do it. I can't be calm like they want." She inhaled and the breath squeaked in her throat; Obi-Wan thought she was trying very hard not to cry.

Asha started to whistle through her fingers. Obi-Wan felt her power; the music enfolded the group and exuded calm and a quirky sort of happiness that relaxed Kate.

"Come home," said Ciaràn.

"I don't want to talk to the K'tan and the Council!"

"Maybe you won't have to," said Obi-Wan. Again he touched Asha on the shoulder, and she lowered her hands.

Kate said, "You can't stop them." She thought, _You can't protect me._

"I can't. But maybe Master Jinn and Master Drallig can."

Kate looked at the three of them in the eyes again, and then she led the way back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

There were two figures framed in the doorway as the Padawans approached the Jedi Temple. One of them was standing very still and staring out over the steps. The other was gesturing emphatically and yelling at his companion.

"—why they would leave without warning like this--"

But he quieted as the four people below trudged up the stairs. Asha, it must be admitted, trudged rather faster and with more enthusiasm than the others. Obi-Wan supposed that she did this because she was magically unaffected by the intent stares of the Jedi Masters awaiting their return. He bowed when he reached the step below his teacher, Master Jinn, and Ciaràn's, Battlemaster Drallig. Kate exhibited a pointed lack of bowing.

Asha did not bow either; she ran right to Master Jinn, tugged excitedly on the hem of his tunic, and exclaimed, "Obi-Wan took me to Coruscant!"

"That's wonderful, Asha," he replied, though the look he gave Obi-Wan suggested otherwise. "Why don't you go inside now?"

"Okay." The girl let go of Qui-Gon, walked a sort-of figure-eight pattern around the group, and then finally disappeared inside, presumably to return to her clan. An awkward silence reigned, during which Obi-Wan hoped that Asha did not take it into her head to go and explore his rooms again.

"So," said Kate. "Where's my Master?"

Qui-Gon said, "I haven't seen him. He may be looking for you."

She muttered, "I doubt it."

"Why are you out here?" He asked, looking at all of them but addressing, Obi-Wan felt, his apprentice in particular.

"Kate was…in distress," said Obi-Wan.

"Yet another understatement," muttered Ciarán. "Now we just have to teach you sarcasm to go along with the irony."

Obi-Wan pointed at the Zabrak. "Zap."

"What?!"

"That was his woefully inadequate Force lightning," said Kate. "For now it will serve in the place of sarcasm." Faultlessly she switched tacks and looked at her superior. "Master Jinn…this is my fault."

Qui-Gon looked at them.

"You didn't ask us to go out of the temple," said Obi-Wan, out of joking retaliation mode and looking kindly at her now. He sensed the Force roiling within her, emotions threatening to spill as she actually considered spilling them to Master Jinn. Fear and denial and passion.

Master Jinn did too. "I think this isn't a good conversation to have on the steps." He projected calm and understanding—Obi-Wan hoped he could understand Kate's problems. He certainly didn't—not well enough, anyway. He had come to the same conclusion with Kate that he'd come to with Siri. Girls are weird.

"Come," said Qui-Gon. He lead them into an offshoot of the entrance hall, where an alcove held comfortable couches and a dim glowlamp. Obi-Wan idly listened in on Drallig and Ciarán's conversation as they followed him.

"Padawan, you know you're not to go outside the temple alone!"

"I apologize, Master."

"Helping others is commendable. Thank you for locating Padawan Misinjian. But you're getting pushups for this."

"Yes, Master."

"We'll leave now, I think," Drallig said, addressing Qui-Gon as if he were asking a question; Qui-Gon nodded. Kate had collapsed onto a plushy, yellow couch, and he noticed her glance at Ciarán as if she wanted him to stay. He departed, however, with Master Drallig, and Obi-Wan sat beside Qui-Gon, facing her.

"He knows," she said, head drooped, defiance smoldering like coals on the edges of her Force presence. "Obi-Wan knows. I've told them how unfit I feel…for this place. I sit down at mealtime with so many other people who have the same training I do, but they _get it. _I can't be this calm, perfect, Jedi… clone. Master K'tan only tells me over and over to feel the serenity of the Force, and looks at me like I've disappointed him. Master Drallig does too, and Yoda, and…the Council members frightened me today."

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked softly.

"Master Yoda said he could take me apart." She raised her head as she spoke and looked him in the eye, the more defiant and confidant the more concrete her foe.

"The Council is…not perfect," Qui-Gon admitted. "Wise, yes, but wisdom is not always expressed in the ways the student needs to hear. I'm not saying you're at all wrong about Yoda. In fact, I suspect you're right. His intentions are good. But…I will speak with K'tan and the council, alright?" Obi-Wan wondered, _Have I ever heard her Master's first name?_ "You should rest."

Again she looked down. Loneliness drew itself to her this time, but it was tossed aside by a bitter rage—and then a sort of calm, as she thought of how sleep would distance her from the day. She nodded and stood up. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan followed; together they walked in silence to the residential tower and took the turbolift to their proper places. Qui-Gon said nothing once he and Obi-Wan were alone. He wondered what was going through his Master's mind. No thoughts kind to the Council…and perhaps, some reflecting on his own darkness.

"And my own passions, my apprentice," said Qui-Gon. "I feel that her most dangerous emotions are not, for now, aggressive. They are simply very strong."

Ciarán came into Intergalactic Politics class looking as though he hadn't slept properly. This was not to say that he was bleary-eyed or yawning; these were human traits. He had no hair to be messed up. However, someone walking into the classroom would have immediately been able to tell that he had been up late last night for quite some time. And if they knew Master Drallig, they would also have known that Ciarán had been doing pushups.

The Zabrak's face fell against his desk with a quiet _thud_.

Obi-Wan prodded his shoulder from across the aisle. "You're going to dent the desk again."

Ciarán grumbled and looked up. "You remember when we were younglings and we got to have _naps_?"

"Padawan!" The Master in charge of the class seemed to appear in front of Ciarán with upsetting speed. "What is the relationship between Corellia and Selonia?"

"Erm, sisters."

The class snickered. "Yes, Padawan," said the Arkanian Master without any humor. "The Corellian system is often referred to as the Sisters. However, the answer I was looking for was 'post-colonizational accord'…"

The rest of morning classes followed this trend. Ciarán banished his weariness for the one he really cared about—Lightsaber Combat. There in the room floored with mats, windows looking out over most of the proximal buildings, he stretched out in preparation for class, the silver hilt of his double-bladed lightsaber lying beside him. A few feet away, Obi-Wan looked up from touching his toes.

Kate walked in among a group of other students, her face painted in black and green. As if nothing had happened, she smiled and sat down next to Obi-Wan and Ciarán. As if nothing had happened, she participated in class, never excitable or upset even when she fought a practice duel. Her green lightsaber slashed and parried, hummed and shrieked, and when class was over she smiled at her friends, said "'Force be with you," and left for her next class as usual.

Obi-Wan and Ciarán did not have their next class together, but they stood in the hall outside the training room for a moment, each knowing what the other was thinking.

At last Ciarán said, "That was…rather odd."

"Our lives are always odd. I mean, I met you when you beat up Bruck Chun! Although I still maintain that I had complete control over the situation."

"I'm so glad you can actually laugh about that now."

Obi-Wan smiled, and they parted.

--/--

True to his earlier promise, Ciarán returned to his room after classes and promptly fell asleep again. He was almost completely unaware of what was going on around him – almost, because if he was completely unaware and Master Drallig caught him like that, he knew he'd never hear the end of it – which was why, when he felt a hand grip his shoulder, he was still able to punch the body it was attached to.

"Ow!" Obi-Wan gave him another, slightly less friendly shove. "Get up! She's gone again!"

Ciarán turned his head and blinked. "Who did what?" He started to pull his pillow over his head again.

"Oh honestly, I don't have time for this." The Force offered Ciarán a warning, but it didn't come quick enough to Ciarán to react before Obi-Wan pushed him off the bed.

"Was that really necessary?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan spoke sternly and seriously, hands on hips. "Kate is gone."

"And you propose we go after her again?"

"Yes. If we hurry we might be able to catch her before she--"

He started to head out of the room and down the hallway, and did not realize that Ciarán wasn't following until he heard his friend's voice call after him, "Might I make a suggestion?"

Obi-Wan turned and stared, rather annoyed at the way that the Zabrak could stand so unaffectedly in the doorway, leaning against the frame and looking as though he had all the time in the world. "Yes?"

"Let's tell our Masters this time."

--/--

Cin Drallig was teaching when the two boys appeared in the doorway of the training room. He had a lightsaber in his hand but it wasn't lit; the students were seated, taking notes about Forms on their datapads. Ciarán must've contacted him through their bond without Obi-Wan knowing, because he came to the door as soon as he saw them—strangely enough, Obi-Wan could not get a response from his Master. The bond was intact, but Qui-Gon was busy.

"Just a moment, everyone, my Padawan wants more pushups…" Drallig addressed the class, then lowered his voice to address Ciarán. "Problem?"

"Yes, Master. Kate Misinjian fled the temple again. On foot, right, Obi-Wan? You sensed it."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I certainly hope she was on foot. I can barely sense her now…she's put distance between herself and the Temple, physically and psychicly."

Drallig thought for a moment. "You got her back last time. I'll trust you to do it again. Don't get hurt, don't go down any sleezy streets. Qui-Gon and I will find you as soon as we can."

Obi-Wan asked, "Begging your pardon, but… where is Master Qui-Gon?"

"With the Council. "

He pointedly said no more, but Ciarán muttered, "Probably berating them for what they did yesterday."

--/--

Obi-Wan had been outside of the temple before. He had been on planets possibly more dangerous than Coruscant, on planets more alien or more hostile. But he saw the forest of skyscrapers in which the Temple sat as a challenging, trackless jungle when he was in it to find a wayward friend, with only a sketchy Force presence, like a guttering flare, to follow. He managed to ignore the expanse of black sky, and walked down a curved walkway which sloped upward toward another block and Kate's presence with a confidant step.

He wasn't, after all, going to look less confidant than Ciarán.

The walkway stopped at a turbolift next to an automated airtaxi stop. A taxi pulled up to the edge as the Padawans approached the lift doors, and before they could focus on where Kate had gone from here, a familiar figure trundled out of the taxi carrying a briefcase-like object almost as large as she was.

"Look," said Obi-Wan in a sort of daze of surprise. "Asha."

"Hmm?" Ciarán turned around, saw the little girl, and pressed his hands against the turbolift's control plate, concentrating—and leaving Obi-Wan to respond to Asha's immediate tug on his hand.

"Hi!"

"Hi, Asha…Shouldn't you be at the Temple?"

"I had music lessons!" She proudly patted the case she carried. "Violin!"

Ciarán said, "She's gone way down."

"And we go after her?" Obi-Wan replied.

He nodded.

Asha babbled. "Every day at the opera house I--"

Obi-Wan began speak to her, but at that moment the Force bugled a warning; he pulled the little girl and the violin to one side of the turbolift doors. Ciarán slid to the other side and drew his lightsaber, ignited one blade—

Because out of the turbolift came a family of armored rats. Two Asha-sized rodents with matted fur lumbered out of the doors and lunged for the Jedi. Ciarán waved his silver lightsaber at the beast and it jumped away with jittering steps, claws clattering on ferrocrete—as if it had already felt the bite of a blade. Obi-Wan Force-pushed the second one away down the walkway.

"We still have to go," yelled the Zabrak; juvenile rats were pouring out of the turbolift car's roof and hanging from the door like gargoyles. Ciarán made a fist and tore three of them off the doorframe and onto the air taxi, which sped away a moment later

"We're the only ones who can do this." Unshakable loyalty drove him, rooted in Drallig's command, Kate's plight, and Jedi morality.

Obi-Wan _knew _that Ciaràn was going to step into the turbolift whether there were rats in it or not. He also, for once, thought his friend was completely mad and that they needed to escort Asha back to the Temple. Insanity, however, was preferable to the slavering adult animals which were now between him and the temple, as Asha was keeping a death grip on his right arm.

Silently, ferociously, and with a flexibility Obi-Wan didn't think he himself could manage, Ciaràn kicked a snapping rat off the wall of the turbolift and into the street. Obi-Wan backtracked just in time for the adult rats to clamp their jaws together on the air in front of him—Asha let out a wavering, repressed scream, and Obi-Wan backed into the turbolift with the youngling, the violin, and Ciaràn's lightsaber buzzing in his ears—he slammed a Force Wave into the adult rats with his free hand, and thankfully the turbolift was empty, the doorway out of it filled up with snarling, pushing animals as the adult rats collided on the way to the door again and one's spiny back raked across the other's eye; they turned on each other, their children running out from under clawed paws—Ciaràn punched numbers, Asha stared silently, and Obi-Wan tried to silently convey to her that this was _life _and it was good that she realized there would be no hiding her eyes—

The lightsaber snapped off and the doors thumped shut, leaving the hiss of the descending turbolift that sounded to Obi-Wan's ears like silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

The first thing that Kate encountered upon exiting the turbolift was a family of armored rats. Caught by surprise, her first reaction was to Force-push the rodents past her and through the doorway, where they would be trapped and carried upward. The turbolift doors closed on the snarling beasts. If she gave any thought to her friends who might be following her, it was quickly pushed aside in favor of where she aught to go next.

She had tried. She had given the Jedi an afternoon, a deadline, in which she kept quiet and acted like a nice little Padawan.

It hadn't helped. Waiting had turned into seething, as she remembered the council and feared.

They had never been frightening before. Impressive, yes. Untouchable, yes. Frightening? No. Yoda visited children in their cradles.

Kate shivered. Not because of the temperature in the hallway she was now in, either. The air was still and lukewarm. She had descended far enough that the office building she was standing in was probably now used as an unofficial apartment building for transitory sentients. Orange glowstrips in the walls sent a clear but unusually-colored light through the mold-scented air. She had heard many facts and tales about the of the understeets of Coruscant, and imagined herself prepared for whatever scum and villainy she might come across.

After all, she was most likely the only one of them with a lightsaber.

_And the Force._ she thought._ And now, I can do whatever I want with it. Limitless power. _

--/--

"She was here," Ciaràn said, as the three of them slipped cautiously out of the turbolift. "It wasn't long ago; her presence is still pretty strong."

Obi-Wan started to reach out into the Force, searching for the same lead that Ciaràn had found, but he was distracted by Asha's grip on the edge of his tunic. "It's dark down here. I want to go home now."

"I--" Obi-Wan, unable to come to a decision, looked back at the doors and then down the corridor. Finally, he settled on, "I'll take care of you. Be brave."

"You really aught to take her back," Ciaràn said.

"And leave you down here alone while I do? Not a chance." He reached down and pried Asha's fingers off his tunic (although she then refused to let go of his hand), and put his other hand on the hilt of his 'saber. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Me too," Asha added. "It sounds dark down here."

"How does something sound dark?" Ciaràn asked.

"Not dark like light," she replied, as though the thought were perfectly logical. "Dark like minor... heavy... like..." she trailed off into humming, and Ciaràn turned around to fix her with some mix of glare and blatant confusion.

--/--

"Oh no," Master Drallig said upon finding the unconscious bodies of the rats scattered about the turbolift entrance. "Not _again_."

Qui-Gon bent to examine one of rodent's saber wounds. "Ciaràn does this often?"

"More often than I'd like." The turbolift doors opened again as the platform returned to their level. "How far down do you think they went?"

"Too far."

"Do you think we should inform the Council about this?"

Qui-Gon only hesitated a moment before replying, "No. We can find them." He stepped into the car and examined the inboard computer. "Level 242. Come on, we can still catch them before they get too far."

Cin Drallig followed, shaking his head. "I have a bad feeling about this."

--/--

Asha was not at all used to her head being more than three feet above the ground. Hanging onto Obi-Wan's shoulders was not the most comfortable way to be carried, but it was much better than struggling to keep up with the boys' large strides as they followed their friend through the streets of the undercity.

"That way," she said suddenly, pointing down one of the myriad alleys branching off the main hallway.

"Kate didn't go that way," Obi-Wan replied. "She came by this way. Reach out to the Force; you'll be able to tell she was here."

If Asha could have crossed her arms, she would have; as it was, she made do with pouting. They didn't _understand._ They couldn't hear the way she could that if they cut over through the alley, Kate would actually be heading in their direction. The older girl had taken a roundabout route, hoping to throw any pursuers off her trail. She hadn't counted on Asha's ability to pinpoint her location. But Asha never forgot a melody, especially not one as dynamic as Kate's. There were parts that flowed softly together in the low winds, and a haunting, almost cry in the horns, and everything rose and fell in perfect crescendos and subito pianos--

--Yes, it was definitely getting more pronounced over the dark harmonies of the abandoned building. She kicked rather violently against Obi-Wan's sides, demanding, again, that he turn right.

"Wait a moment," said Obi-Wan, raising a hand for quiet and almost dropping one of her feet. Asha hoped fervently that he knew his current movements were putting his hair in danger of being pulled. As long as he took full responsibility for his actions--

"What?" Ciaran looked at them.

Obi-Wan said, "She said we should go that way."

Asha returned his glare with her own, backing it with a substantial amount of Force-coercion. Nothing happened.

Except that the Zabrak said "Are you seriously trying to mindtrick me?", and Asha began to feel sorry for Obi-Wan's hair.

Obi-Wan said, "Settle down. She's only eight, she doesn't really know what she's--ow!" He shook his head, which only made Asha's grip on his braid more painful. "Maybe we oughta do what she suggests."

"A senior Padawan letting an eight-year old push you around." Ciaran said, managing to be completely serious and sarcastic at the same time. "Alright, Asha, why do you want us to go that way," he pointed in the direction she indicated, "when Kate has obviously gone _that_ way?" and he pointed again down the direction they'd been going.

"I don't care about where she was sixteen measures ago," Asha replied, still not releasing Obi-Wan's braid. "I care about where she is _now_."

Obi-Wan, momentarily distracted, asked, "Wait, you mean you know where she is?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" She yanked again. "That way!"

Asha was pleased to note the rather amused smile on Ciaràn's face as he lead the way, and the slight pickup in his tempo. Content with her contribution, she wrapped her arms around Obi-Wan's neck again, and tried to settle back into her quasi-comfortable position, but Obi-Wan didn't appear to be putting up with that anymore.

"No," he said, quite seriously, rubbing the places where Asha had kicked him. "You're walking now."

She replied by grabbing hold of his tabard. Obi-Wan sighed, and told her to keep up, which was hard because she had to take two steps for every one of his. By this point, Ciaràn had reached the cross section. He stood in the center of the main hall, tapping his 'saber hilt against his leg impatiently as he waited for them.

"Now which way?" he asked, looking at Asha.

She glanced uncertainly in each direction, quite aware of the Zabrak's pointed stare. For some reason, she could no longer discern Kate from the counterpoint that was the darkness creeping in on them. But she'd been so _sure_--

Something - the crackle of energy - tingled on the back of her neck. She screamed before she could think of anything else.

Ciaràn reacted immediately, bringing his silver blade up to meet the green one, and Asha ducked as they clashed over her head.

Then, to her utter surprise, he smiled.

--/--

Kate glared back. "What are you doing here."

"Finding you," said Obi-Wan.

Without a word, Ciaràn stepped back, but did not deactivate his lightsaber. She kept hers live too. The hums, the martial glow they lent the awkward conversation, were preferable to the awkwardness alone. Small things mattered to Kate now. She had decided to leave the Jedi Order via these streets, as vague as the dark side was to her, and once such a _big _decision had been made, had been put behind her, little things like her old friends' reactions became important. She met Obi-Wan's eyes, probing the Force, waiting for any tiny change in his sense. "I won't go back."

"Don't ruin your life," he told her, and although at first it sounded trite she knew he had experience outside the walls of the temple.

"What do you mean by that?" She questioned. "What exactly is out here that they don't want us to find?"

"It's not what they don't want us to find, it's what isn't good for us. It's...what we could do. To people. You have power, Kate, you just need to reign it in--"

"Why? Because sometime when they took my blood after I was born it was ruled that I wasn't as good as the other initiates? Maybe, because I can feel the Force and not everyone in the galaxy can? Because we ought to dumb down our powers, so that we're not offensive or frightening or domineering? I want to be frightening, Obi-Wan. I want to be powerful."

Ciaràn caught her eyes before he spoke, and the intensity of his gaze stole her attention away from his companion. "True power comes from serenity."

And she could believe that when she looked at him, just as she could when she looked at Master Yoda or Master Qui-Gon. They had their quirks, their failures--Ciaràn loved to fight more than Kate did--but inside them was a core of Jedi discipline, a still pool. Looking at Ciaràn, she admired him, an admiration shading into--emotions she hated as much as they said she should, but that she just couldn't get rid of. And so the hate became a problem of its own. "I want to be out from under shadows."

"Let go of your wants, as we've been taught--"

She interrupted Obi-Wan. "I can't. They are _me_."

The three looked at one another. Asha ducked behind Obi-Wan's legs, and Kate felt a sudden anger at herself for playing out her drama under the eyes of a child. "I could try to kill you," she said softly. "I could try those dark side powers which are supposed to come unbidden and easy. And I really do want this to be easy. My fall isn't physical, or it doesn't have to be if you won't try to stop me. But I know I can't take both of you, and I'll die before going back." She knew they would see this as a threat, not to themselves, but to her life. She was taking herself hostage. And as Jedi, they were pledged do things such as rescue hostages.

Very suddenly, Asha sat down on the ground and clapped her hands over her ears. Then she pointed at Kate, glared with all of her eight year old might, and said "The dissonance _hurts_."

Obi-Wan sighed and picked her up again, and she promptly pressed her face into his shoulder, still humming some wordless tune absently. "I want to go home," she said finally. Then, turning her dark eyes back to Kate and attempting the imploring-child big-eyed look, she asked, "Don't you want to go home?"

"No."

"No?" Asha asked, wide-eyed.

"For one, do any of you know where home _is _from here?"

She got two confused stares and one enthusiastic "I do! I do!"

"Alright," said Ciaràn, looking at Asha, who was waving one arm in the air dangerously close to Obi-Wan's eyes. "Where is it?"

The youngling pointed straight up. "That way!"

Kate began to slowly clap. "Good job. At least somebody knows. Now how do you propose we get there?"

Asha had no reply.

"We haven't gone down to the entirely uncivilized levels." Obi-Wan said, "We can find someone to help us. They'll take Jedi authority seriously."

Ciaràn nodded, ready to march out. Asha began to hum something too cheerful for Kate's tastes. Kate braced her hands on her hips and appraised them. Obi-Wan, carrying the youngling along like a backpack, did have some of the calm look of the Jedi to his face. Ciaràn, on the other hand, had the equally useful look of the Jedi who wouldn't mind chopping people in half.

_We're a team. _Kate thought. _I'm not sure what my place in it is, but we'll sort of always be a team. _

_Until they find the Temple and I find a transport and we never see each other again._


	4. Chapter 4

IV

The Jedi trainees could sense a concentration of people nearby; this lead them to a thoroughfare on the side of a building. As with most of Coruscant, only narrow bridges crossed the aerial highway, but here, the ribbed floor of another structure overshadowed the canyon, and another facet of it extended down to make the road a dead end, a boxlike culvert. As the four Jedi-in-training left the dim sunlight that came into the alleys for the synthetic string lights of the culvert, Obi-Wan first noticed the extraordinary amount of _trash_ visible in the area. A few times, he saw beings fling cans or pieces of machinery down into the abyss, where they collided surprisingly quickly with an unseen solid surface. Trash festooned the shops arrayed beside the sidewalk, too, but it was piled into manageable towers of like objects and seemed to in fact be what the stores were selling.

"Waste," Kate murmured with disgust.

"Recycling." Obi-Wan said. "I'll bet some of these merchants have never seen full sunlight, but get along quite well with their junk-running businesses."

"It sounds chaotic," said Asha. "Waste disposal ensemble."

"A what?" Kate asked.

Asha looked at the rebel Jedi with a mixed expression, perhaps of what disgust children can muster, but Obi-Wan interrupted her with a pat on the head and a disentangling of her fingers from his hair. "I don't want to interrupt the music lesson, but we ought to begin looking for something that might help us."

"I see no information kiosks," Ciaràn observed.

"Do these trash-people ever leave this street?" Kate wondered aloud. Obi-Wan looked around nervously in case any passerby might take offense, but the main traffic of the area was diverted onto a skyway before the alley entrance. "We need to find someone who has connections with...the..." she gestured upward. "Actual world."

"This is the actual world, Kate." Obi-Wan said absently. "We do not see a lot of what happens here, when we're safe in our halls."

"Fine."

"But you're right. We need somewhere that attracts people from different areas." He scanned the street. The few neon lights--most store names were printed on flimsi and scrawled in languages he vaguely, if at all, recognized--on the street advertised their attendant store's trade to a fancier degree, sometimes involving pictures. He saw the words Chunta's Chvilas and Spirits flick by in Basic on one sign.

"There," he said, and pointed. "We'll ask for directions at that cantina."

"What?" Ciaràn hissed. "We're not old enough to go in there."

Obi-Wan smiled. "I am."

--/--

"I told them not to go down any seedy streets!" Cin Drallig threw his hands into the air in frustration.

Qui-Gon was perched on a ledge, looking out over a stretch of city that he could see, his eyes closed. "And you didn't expect them to take that as an invitation?"

"Ciaràn is getting so many pushups for this."

"He is only doing what he thinks is right."

"Don't make excuses for them, Qui-Gon. They should not have gone this way and you know it. I specifically told them--"

"I believe you," Qui-Gon cut in, obviously becoming annoyed. "I also believe that Obi-Wan and Ciaràn would never intentionally do anything dangerous. I trust them both. Obi-Wan is growing into a fine, upstanding young man, and Ciaràn is well on his way to becoming the same. Except for the whole armored rats thing."

--/--

"What's he doing in there?"

Kate looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "What do most people do in bars?"

"He's not in there getting drunk," Ciaràn insisted.

The two Padawans were entirely ignoring the initiate currently sitting at their feet. While they argued, Asha very carefully took her violin out of it's case, and set the open case in front of her.

"At least, he better not be in there getting drunk," Ciaràn continued. "If he is, I'm going to tell Master Drallig to make him do pushups until..."

Asha spent a few more moments not tuned in to what the others were saying, adjusting the tuning pegs, and then set the bow to the strings. Finally, the music caught Kate's attention.

"Now what is _she_ doing?"

A passing Vratix tossed a few credit chips into the case. Asha continued to play, smiling slightly to herself whenever more of the chips clicked against each other.

"Now that," Kate muttered, "is a pretty useful talent."

--/--

Obi-Wan flashed his ID rather proudly at the barkeep before he ordered his drink. After all, he reasoned, he'd need to blend in with the locals if he was going to get any information off of them. Someone who wasn't drinking in a cantina, well, he'd stick out too much. They'd never trust him.

He eyed the crowd, looking for someone who looked reasonably well traveled, and finally settled on a dark-haired human male who was nursing his own drink in a corner booth. Obi-Wan approached him.

"What're you lookin' for?" the man asked, as Obi-Wan slid into the seat across from him. "Glitterstim? Deathsticks?"

"Actually, I'm looking for information-- What's a deathstick?" Obi-Wan asked, momentarily distracted.

The man smiled rather nastily. "Tell you what kid -- your first one's free, so long as you promise me you'll buy a second one if you like it."

--/--

Asha was making quite the pile of profits, Kate noticed with a hint of jealousy. The violin sent strains of clear music floating into the air around them, over the noise of wind and the background chatter of people, and those who passed by smiled and often dropped credits into the case. She wasn't surprised when some of the dancing, staccato notes carried the Force with them, promoting any charitable feelings the passersby had. Asha's bow slid across the strings. People dropped credits.

Credits, Kate realized, that would come in handy for a lone girl on Coruscant who was suddenly cut off from Jedi funding.

She stepped closer to the violin case, realizing with a thrill of fear that some of the patrons of this area might think that she was going to dance--but it was a cover. It gave her an excuse to stand there and talk. "Nice work," She said loudly to Asha.

As she played, the little girl looked up at the interruption; Kate took this moment to flick her fingers against her leg and propel a few credit chips into the snug pocket created between her pant leg and the top of her boot. Something like seven credits disappeared this way; almost half of Asha's take, which, piled up as it was, looked similar to how it had been before. Not enough to get Kate much, but also a fair portion of any street musician's earnings.

She stepped back to her former place beside Ciaràn. She felt guilty, for just a moment, about stealing from an innocent, but, as before, two bitter thoughts erased the misgiving.

Asha was using the Force to influence the passersby for her own gain, consciously or not, and so her moral slate was not clean either.

And she was a Jedi; this was a small, easy portion of revenge upon them.

--/--

"This... Theshe... These things are _great_," Obi-Wan slurred. The man had poured the powder from one of the death sticks into his drink, turning it a bright, vivid green. He contemplated the shot glass, and immediately started laughing. Several other club patrons turned around to stare at him.

"Just a newbie," the man said, and Obi-Wan found this very amusing too. "Somebody bring him another drink."

--/--

Ciaràn glanced at the wall behind him to see just how grimy it was before leaning on it and smiling slightly, amused by the substantial pile of credits Asha's melodies were amassing. Kate managed to look like she was lurking a few steps away, even though she was simply standing there in broad daylight. There was something of a lurk about the set of her shoulders.

He took a few steps toward her, planning on saying something to try to convince her to stay with the Jedi. Those steps took him across the mouth of an alley beside the bar--

a presence in the Force flared up like a match behind him. He turned, surprised, pulled his lightsaber to his hands. The blade snapped to life.

"You, Padawan, are going to be the death of me," said Master Jinn mildly, face lit by the silver glow.

Ciaràn immediately shut off the weapon. "Sorry Master!" He saw Master Drallig behind Qui-Gon and sensed distinct amusement tinged with nervousness. Drallig did care what happened to his Padawan. "Hi, Master."

"Is that all you have to say, Padawan?"

"And where," asked Qui-Gon, "is my apprentice?"

Ciaràn looked at Kate. Kate looked at Asha. Asha looked at the sky.

Ciaràn said, "Yes, to the first. As for the second, uh, in there. We think." He pointed at the dark wall of the bar.

"You _think_, Padawan?"

"Well, that's where he went," Ciaràn amended. "But that was almost an hour ago, and we haven't seen him..."

Master Drallig sighed. "At least you had the good sense to stay out here."

Ciaràn shrugged. It was at that point that he saw Kate trying to disappear back into the shadows. Using the Force to quicken his reflexes, he shot a hand out and grabbed the back of her tunic. "You're _not_ leaving yet," he said pointedly. Then, as Qui-Gon disappeared around the corner and into the bar, he added, "Aren't you curious to see how much trouble he gets into?"

There was silence for several long moments. Then Asha started to hum again; Kate shot a glare in her direction, but the girl did not appear affected. The next thing they heard after that was an unusual amount of loud giggling, and Master Jinn's reprimands.

"--completely irresponsible. You deliberately disobeyed both myself and Master Drallig. Obi-Wan, are you even listening to me?"

More laughter, and then Obi-Wan appeared in the alley. His face was bright red, and he appeared to be leaning on Qui-Gon for support. Asha put her hands over her ears. "This is worse than dissonance. This is... cacophony. Is that the right word?"

Kate turned around and looked at Obi-Wan with narrowed eyes. "What happened to him? You feel that?"

Ciaràn nodded. Obi-Wan's Force presence was as murky as swamp water, as if Obi-Wan did not know where or even who he was...and didn't particularly care. In the next moment Obi-Wan continued laughing, a twittering laugh entirely unlike him.

"Qui-Gon," Master Drallig growled. "Just hit him."

"I'm not going to hit my Padawan." Qui-Gon said calmly. He grasped Obi-Wan firmly by the shoulders and shook him; the younger man gave a woozy smile.

"Fine," said Master Drallig, and he cuffed Obi-Wan across the back of the head.

Ciaràn felt the fabric of Kate's cloak pull away from his fingers. He turned to look and she was already balanced on a window ledge a few meters away in a surge of the Force; she gave him a look too complicated to name before climbing away, disappearing over a lip of ferrocrete with a swish of her cloak. He heard a door swish open and slam closed. She was _leaving _again, all Force powers and no thought processes. Anger at her, at Obi-Wan, at himself for feeling angry, firmed his face into a scowl. Ciaràn looked back at the inebriated Obi-Wan lolling against Qui-Gon's shoulder and stepped out of the alleyway's shadow to rejoin the group.

"Move out," Qui-Gon said. "Let's not make the Jedi Order look any more idiotic than we already have. Where did Padawan Misinjian go?"

Ciaràn pointed bitterly at Obi-Wan. "This one proved to be enough of a distraction to let her get away again."

"Diiiistraaaaaction," Obi-Wan mumbled, sounding very pleased with himself.

Asha got up and tugged on Ciaràn's sleeve. "_Is _'cacophony' the right word?"


	5. Chapter 5

Kate Misinjian stalked down another shadowed, disused pathway, laughing between her teeth at the unobservant Jedi she had left behind. Dirt sloughed off the wide sleeve of her cloak. Her expression flicked from triumphant to disappointed as she brushed off the dust. It proved that she had slept in an alley last night, under a small overhang and next to a drainage grate, curled in her Jedi cloak and half-alert, half-dozing all the while. She'd practiced, as she ran from Obi-Wan and the others, scaring off the citizens of Coruscant, whether innocent or malicious ones it didn't matter, with a glare. A glimpse of her lightsaber scared off anyone who meant to do her harm, but as she fitfully tried to sleep shivers had run under the skin of her arms, as if eager to use the famous blade and assure herself of one less danger.

Laughing was still easier than thinking when she woke up the next morning, thankfully alone, unexpectedly dusty, hungry, and forced to wipe her smudged makeup off her cheek with spit and the back of her hand. She only vaguely knew where she was from geography lessons, but any HoloNet kiosk or road sign would tell her the name of the district she was in. Even though she had decided to run away from the temple days ago, had planned and grown comfortable with the planning, had imagined herself ready to leave home, it didn't feel comfortable in her heart. Easiest of all was not thinking; just feeling, raging against Masters and circumstances, hormones and morals, hoping that the Sith, with his rumored omniscience like a two-way mirror, would hear her. She whipped the Force around herself in useless flings and whirlwinds, advertising potent power as she moved, uncaring of whether her former allies were following her.

What with these two days of freedom as well as her first, halfhearted escape attempt, surely the Sith should notice her by now, unless it too saw her as useless and intractable–

She refused to believe that it did not exist, as some said, that it was just a legendary name to give to an unknown or imagined new foe.

A person stepped out of the a shadowed side street.. She had not consciously noticed it before, but she felt a parting of energies and suddenly she was not alone. An alien stood in front of her in the small alley. They were far enough into buildings and away from skylanes that the cacophony of speeder traffic was a muffled hum, and his footsteps clicked loud, but only once she saw him could she hear them. With her training, even that not involving the Force, she should have been aware of his presence far sooner. The Council had not hidden the fact that a 'cloud of the dark side' was distancing the Force from the Jedi in recent days, but her generation, Kate realized, had grown up in it--

He was a blue-skinned, black-clothed male, with more head-tails than she cared to count ringing his craggy face._ A Feeorin_, Kate realized, _probably in his twenties according to human age._

He held a lightsaber in one gloved hand, and meant to draw it.

She Force-pushed him, her arms ridged with her anger, releasing pent-up energy. Dust and scraps of plastic and flimsi whooshed through the alley in a cloud as the push surged toward him, sending him stumbling backwards seconds later. A red lightsaber snapped to life in his hand. Vivid, contradictory anger swept through Kate at the sight of the crimson; she would fight now because he was a Jedi's foe, and she would fight to be his replacement.

**Obi-Wan woke up** with the worst headache he'd ever experienced. The light that was streaming through his windows made spots dance before his eyes, and it took him far longer than usual to get dressed due to a lingering dizziness. When he finally stumbled into the sitting room, he found Qui-Gon facing him, wearing a smile that was far too happy for Obi-Wan's current frame of mind.

"Sleep well, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan groaned in response. "Master, what did I do last night?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could tell me."

The boy plopped down on one of the couches and put his head in his hands. "I remember... something about ducks. One of them may have flown into the back of my head."

"That must have been when Master Drallig hit you," Qui-Gon commented casually. "Anything else?"

"Asha was singing in Askajjian, which I guess isn't all that unusual." He paused for a second. "But Ciaràn was dancing, so that can't have been real either."

"What was that about me dancing?" Ciaràn walked into the room wearing a serious expression, and spoke as soon as the door ceased its hiss. But then he moved closer to Obi-Wan and smiled widely and irritatingly. "Master Drallig wants to see you."

"For what?" Obi-Wan asked, glancing between his friend and his Master.

It was Qui-Gon who responded, "Master Drallig and I had a rather extensive conversation last night concerning your punishment. We figured that, rather than bring you before the Council, it would be far easier to throw you in bed, and in the morning you could have an extra vigorous sparring session to make up for your obvious lack of judgment."

Obi-Wan's gaze shifted back to Ciaràn. "I don't suppose sparring actually means I'm going to spar with you, does it?"

The Zabrak's grin grew, if possible, even wider, giving Obi-Wan all the answer he needed.

**The Feeorin leapt** toward Kate, skidding in the dirt as he landed, lightsaber whipping around at her legs from behind his knees. She jumped over the blade as her own came to life in her hand. Green met red in a conventional low block. When he paused and she cut at his chest he simply lifted his weapon and blocked again, hands high. He smiled, and behind it was more darkness than she had ever known. Pain layered on aggression on hate to create a miasma of forbidden, easy vigor–

"You aren't Darth Sidious," she accused instead of questioning, instead of flinching--.

The alien head shook slightly, yellowish eyes unnaturally bright. "It is," he said, "my Master that you seek."

"Then I'll kill you, and prove myself to him!"

The Sith's saber spun and flicked toward her face. She stepped back and to the side, parried, foresaw–blocked a kick with her right forearm and ignored the resultant pain enough to draw her arm back as she stepped forward. She drove her lightsaber through him just above the hipbone. Although it burnt out a runnel of flesh, the stab wasn't deep enough to incapacitate him, and as the Sith screamed he spun to face her and slashed. She felt like she was reeling from the burnt-flesh reek and utter lack of resistance from her own attack, which she had never experienced with training sabers, but the Force steadied her senses. She met the Sith's next attack.

That strike was a feint; before the fields could flash with contact his weapon dipped close to her shoulder. She danced backwards on her toes, frightened.

**Obi-wan had heard** of Master Drallig's fondness for push-ups on other occasions, but had never seen the Battle Master put the idea into practice. Now, he was experiencing it first hand.

He was not given a number to complete; Master Drallig simply smiled at him and said "Start." He was required to count aloud, and he'd made it to push-up number forty-two when Ciaràn put a foot on his back. Obi-Wan glared up at his friend as the weight increased.

"Did I tell you to stop, Padawan?" Master Drallig asked lightly. "And keep your back straight."

With his head still pounding, Obi-Wan lowered his body again.

"43... 44... 45..."

**The Feeorin limped** slightly as he began to circle Kate, but otherwise remained focused, unsettling eyes intent, washing pain away with the Force. She wondered, not without relief, why he did not use any of the fearsome Force powers the dark side offered, which the temple taught Padawans only a little about: lightning; the draining of life energy; choke holds without hands. But, she reminded herself, _he's just an apprentice. Like me._

That equality propelled her forward into a preemptive slash. He caught her saber and threw both blades toward the ground in a wide, florescent circle, opening himself up–she kicked him just above the furrow her lightsaber had dug in his side, and followed up with a Force-push that slammed the Sith against a wall a meter away. She moved toward him slowly, pride beginning to surface and bleed happiness into her brain as he winced, but as adrenaline died the dull, vivid pain from where he'd kicked her replaced it. She grimaced and stabbed down toward his saber arm, knowing grimly that she'd have to be rid of it before he was anything like helpless–

but he had a longer reach than she did. His ankles clamped around hers and twisted. Suddenly she was on the ground too, forearms grinding against the duracrete–

she rolled, and nothing but the Force directed her arm to raised her saber and block two attacks before she could use momentum to toss herself to her feet. A few more parries and her back hit the wall. He raised a hand–

and she brought a fire escape down between them. Wrenched from its sockets above Kate's head, the folded metal stairway creaked under the influence of the Force. A corner glanced off her hip as the construct fell from two stories up. It clanged against the ground on its edge, falling like a barred, black wall toward the Sith just as he Force-jumped away. Kate bit back a cry and jogged in the opposite direction. The ladder-shaped fire escape clattered to the ground between them, and in no time at all after she stopped moving the Sith was on top of it, walking toward her just favoring his right leg, anger and determination beating like hearts through the Force. She could do nothing but step up onto the metal rungs and face him. The mesh of black bars was almost the size of the temple's smallest sparring floors...

Memories flashed through Kate–sparring practice, classes with Master Drallig and Ciaran, her pride at constructing her first lightsaber, the same one whose ridged surface was surely pressing red runnels into her hands now as she gripped it tightly in preparation for battle. She had never been exceptional at swordplay, but not hadn't failed at it either, not until Master K'tan had started monitoring her in those classes too and forced her to think about her feelings as well as her fighting–she could almost hear K'tan's soft, cracking voice.

"_Relax, my apprentice. Even if you are fighting to the death, you must remain calm. The Force buoys you up. Let its serenity protect you from the fear of death."_

_But when she was calm, her reactions were slow. Feeling that the fight was real and important urged her to a frenzy where the Force felt close, where its applications for attack were as natural as her hands of flesh . What could be wrong with that? What could be right about the halting hesitancy she experienced when trying to channel the serenity a Jedi was supposed to have?_

_She remembered Ciaran standing on the sidelines, arms folded in the soft material of his cloak, his eyes cutting the world like a knife cutting fat from meat. When she fought him or Master Drallig, they didn't care much about her feelings on the matter. They were all technique, all finesse and a focus that, while it couldn't possibly be described as K'tan's 'serenity'; was distinctly Jedi. Master Shaak Ti moved with that clarity too, and Padawan Swan, and under K'tan's tutelage Kate thought that this example she saw in other Jedi she admired was closer to the dark side than to K'tan's boring serenity! It was closer to the grace of the Sith, as he_

forced her backwards, saber spinning, raining sparks as she caught each fast strike on her own blade. The blitz abated as he reached out, as she stepped off the grid.

The Force choke he attacked with next agonized her throat and sent blobs of gray to cloud her vision. She stumbled backwards, unsure of what was going to come next, if anything, but _if I never want to see K'tan again I've got to persevere– _she rode a wave of anger and frustration. She lashed out with her saber, an unaimed strike but one that surprised the Sith, who had expected his opponent to be incapacitated and retreating. The Force choke fell away as he was distracted by blocking two quick slashes aimed for his head. Kate sucked in a breath of air and clarity.

**Somewhere in the** mid-sixties, Obi-Wan realized that he'd attracted an audience. There were general whispers, a few jeers and laughter, some hushed betting about what number he'd make it to before he collapsed, and--

"Oh no," Obi-Wan groaned.

Although she was lost in the middle of the crowd in the doorway, Obi-wan could clearly hear Asha's breezy soprano over the rest of the murmur. The foot on his back lifted, and Obi-Wan wondered vaguely what Ciaràn was planning. He watched his friend's black boots cross the room, and listened intently as Ciaràn addressed Asha.

"What are you doing here?"

"Obi-Wan is supposed to take me to my music lessons, but I can't find him," Asha replied. "You don't know where he is, do you?"

Obi-Wan could practically see the gears turning in Ciaràn's head. "I do, actually. Asha, you can miss one music lesson, right?"

"I guess. Why?"

"Well, Obi-Wan and I are playing a game, and you can play too. All I need is for you to sit very, very still."

Asha must have nodded, because the next thing he knew, Ciaràn's boots were coming back toward him, accompanied by Asha's smaller slippered feet. They paused in front of him, and then Asha was picked up off the ground and deposited on his back. The only thing that kept Obi-Wan from falling was his determination not to fail in front of Ciaràn.

"You may continue, Padawan." Obi-Wan detected a distinct note of humor in Master Drallig's voice.

"68... 69... 70..."

**The Feeorin filled** up her field of vision. But he was too close now, swinging his saber behind his shoulder to make a powered cut at her, and his limbs were too long for a punch or kick at this distance that he might throw at her to be truly effective–she flipped her saber, blade burning a green curtain into the air as it crossed in front of her face, and switched her hands around to effect a controlled slash from her right to her left. With only a deep thrum the Sith lost his right arm at the shoulder. Kate pointed her saber's hilt at her heart and stabbed him through the sternum until her knuckles brushed his tunic.

Her hands started shaking before the Sith hit the ground.

Then, _see, _she thought, breathing hard, weapon still live at her side, _women can fight as well as men._

Then, _Great. I still have no idea where to find the Sith Master._

The Feeorin's commlink, a high-tech looking square at his belt, began to blink red as if for an incoming call.

She pulled it to her with the Force and allowed the call to come.

It was laughter. A voice, she couldn't tell if it wasn't human, cackling with all the enthusiasm of a being laughing in a group of friends about an in-joke. It made her want to back up against the wall, sink to her haunches and curl up, release the fear-power that had sustained her and just cower from the monsters in the darkness, from the oddity of this laughter and the death on her hands–but she didn't. She glared at the commlink as if the striped speakers were the laughing man's eyes, and swallowed tears to firm her lips into an expression of serious anger. "Identify yourself."

The laughter faded like an echo bouncing into the recesses of a cave."Why, who did you expect?" the voice cajoled. "Darth Sidious."

She released a held breath, relieved to finally be speaking to the Sith Master. She began to walk through the alley, in case someone noticed that she had destroyed their fire escape. "My name is Kate. I've come from the Jedi temple to defect to your side, and I've killed your apprentice."

Such easy words were at odds with their content. But Darth Sidious inviting her to meet him at the Works, the abandoned factory spread not far from her current position, sounded easy as well.

"**104... 105... 106...** 107..."

"That's enough, Padawan. I always liked prime numbers."

Obi-Wan sighed with relief as someone -- Master Jinn, he saw, once he'd rolled onto his back and was able to look up -- picked Asha up again. It took a moment before he was able to sit properly, and someone pressed a canteen into his hands as soon as he had. He didn't think he'd ever been so grateful to see water.

He stood on shaky legs and faced the other four. Qui-Gon was smiling bemusedly at him, Asha perched on his shoulders. Master Drallig was shooing the last of the onlookers out the door while Ciaràn selected a practice blade from a rack on the far wall.

"Catch," he said, tossing one to Obi-Wan, who allowed the hilt to smack him in the chest since he could barely feel his arms.

"You aren't honestly suggesting--"

"Of course I am." Ciaràn's grin would have frightened him if he didn't know the Zabrak so well. "I did mention something about a spar earlier, didn't I?"


End file.
